Real
by LeighJ11
Summary: "Beth Greene has never been fond of living by anyone else's standards. She's also never been fond of relying on anyone else, for anything. The combination of these two ideals may be the very reason that Beth earns next to two thousand dollars a week being a cam girl between the hours of eight o'clock in the evening and two o'clock in the morning." Beth has to stop faking it.
1. Chapter 1

**I'M BACK!**

 **Have you guys missed me? I have missed you all so much and I'm so glad to be writing again! Guys, don't think the wait hasn't been worth it! With the help of two special friends, I am more inspired than ever. I have a second part to this prompt, eight more prompts, a new chapter to Lollipops, more updates for ASE (A splintered edge) and TIWDFY (Tonight I wanna dance for you) and even THREE new projects cooking up. It's all going off and I can't wait to dive head first! Stay tuned!**

Beth Greene has never been fond of living by anyone else's standards. She's also never been fond of relying on anyone else, for anything. The combination of these two ideals may be the very reason that Beth earns next to two thousand dollars a week being a cam girl between the hours of eight o'clock in the evening and two o'clock in the morning.

She's never had a problem with her body, but she's never felt particularly great about it. Basically, it's a tool. Like a workman with his toolbox full of nails and hammer, her tits and cunt and ass are her meal ticket. With a little fake orgasm thrown in at the end, she's raking in the money and she has absolutely no reason to feel ashamed about it.

Every other hour of the day, she's a normal girl. She shops and reads; meets friends for coffee, writes down lyrics and poems that come to her in sudden waves of inspiration and cuddles her cat Jasmine when she slides into bed at night. Her family don't know about her secret life.

Not that it matters because Beth moved so far from her childhood farm that they don't see how lavish her apartment or her lifestyle is and so they don't question her lies about her day time job in a bookstore or her evening job at a small dive bar in town. Plus, holidays are always spent at the farm so it works out perfectly for her.

She's always been very liberal: with her body, her thoughts and most especially her opinions. She thinks she gets it from her older sister Maggie, who has always been outspoken and put Beth in awe of her from a very young age, watching how her big sister took on words with grace and spun them into encouraging, intelligent arguments.

She's now been a cam girl for going on three years and not once has she been caught out or forced into an awkward situation. For the first time in three years, she's never met her clients.

Today is a different story.

Her car broke down in the virtual middle of nowhere nearly an hour out from her apartment after a wild night out with some girlfriends. Now Saturday morning has arisen and Beth had been making her way back home with a stinking hangover and a car full of doughnuts and coffee when the car had slowed down to a halt on a flat tire.

Luckily, her signal hadn't failed her. With the sun blazing down on her head of wild curls and clinging to the tight material of her little black dress, Beth took to google for local mechanics. A quick call with a rough, smoke ruined lungs kind of voice left her waiting less than twenty minutes for a tow truck to show up.

Feeling sick and no better than death warmed over, she'd been dragged along in her hooked-up car for what felt like her entire life time when finally, they had pulled up to a dingy little garage. The old guy up front jumped out and waved at her idly, whistling out towards the dark depths of the building.

Beth climbed out with a sour face and a death grip on her cooling coffee, protectively cradling a doughnut in the other hand and between her teeth. She barely even gave attention to anything besides the sugary breakfast and so didn't feel the need to look up when feet scuffed against concrete and a shadow fell over her.

With the doughnut three-quarters of the way down her throat, she looks up when she realises how silent everyone is, despite the fact she's standing with the guy that picked her up and a mysterious third party who emerged from the sounds of whirring and sawing. It's that very doughnut she chokes on until her eyes start watering so bad she spits it all back out.

Right onto the shoes of one of her most regular clients.

Eyes watering and mascara dripping down her face probably still isn't the best expression between the two of them. Daryl, her very first and most favourite client stares back at her with his mouth gaping open in the most painful way. Swallowing down the last bits of doughnut, rather than talking and breaking the awkward silence like a normal person, Beth decides to rams her cup to her mouth and gulp down her coffee instead.

Doing this isn't as easy as she thought it was going to be though because her desperate swallowing leads to an empty cup in less than three seconds and she's forced to pull the plastic from her mouth and smile nervously. "Er, so what's wrong with it? The tire ruined? Or…"

"Ain't seen it yet."

"Right," she answers quickly with colouring cheeks and a glance to the car beside her that hasn't yet been moved. "'Cause it's still here."

"Yeah," he grumbles, recovering a little faster than her and crossing his arms when he closes his mouth.

Beth smiles nervously. "How long I gotta wait?"

Daryl glances at the other man who seems to have gotten bored and wandered off. When he glances back at her, he clears his throat at the same time that he talks so it comes out in a gruff, hoarse voice. "Right afta you stop pretendin' you don't recognise me."

Her hearts skips and shudders. "Look, we ain't gotta d-"

"Ain't no use pretendin'," he cuts her off. "Just get it out now."

"Okayyy," Beth drawls. "I'm the cam girl you have an' hour with every night and two on Saturdays."

"Smart ass," he comments. "So, gonna need your real name to look at the car."

"Smart ass," she imitates, squeezing her cup with her chipped fingernails. "Beth Greene an' I'm guessin' that surname I've been crabbin' for all this time is Dixon," she says with a nod of her chin to the storefront.

"Tha's me: Daryl Dixon."

"Pleasure," she snipes.

He laughs quick and deep. "Don't recognise ya with clothes on, though that dress ain't really much."

Beth can't repress a throatily laugh and covers it up by glancing over at her car. Daryl takes que and nods towards it. "C'mon, let's take'a look at your car."

Beth follows after him with a smothered smile and a relieved stomach. At least it's not as bad as she thought it was going to be bumping into one of her regulars. Daryl's trying to blow it off so she'll follow his example. They reach her car and he drops to his one knee, calling out the name "Merle," so she imagines that's the guy inside.

He comes out and they start talking mechanics so Beth zones out and eats her other doughnut, a little annoyed at the fact that she looks like death the first time she meets a client in real life. The most worrying thought is if he can ever see her as sexy again after today and if he can't, dealing with the fact that he won't be paying her hourly rate anymore to watch her finger fuck herself for his hungry on-screen eyes.

When she gets fed up of waiting she pointedly sighs until the two men look at her, pausing their conversation. "So?"

"Ain't dealin' with this one," the guy named Merle laughs. "Too damn early."

Daryl scowls after his colleague and Beth raises her eyebrow. "You gonna let your employee talk like that?"

"Employee?" He laughs. "Guy owns half the fuckin' place. S'my brother."

"Oh," she coughs, face tinged red. Will she ever stop embaressing herself? "Sorry."

"S'fine. Look, you gotta flat. Gonna be 'bout twenty minutes to change it but gotta wait 'til I'm done with the other cars. You're lookin' on an' hour."

Beth sighs in frustration. "Can't it be faster?"

"Look," Daryl grumbles, straightening up a little. "You gotta flat, s'quick, with me an' Merle workin', could get to it faster but I got other people waitin' for their cars who brought 'em in sooner."

"Fine," she sighs. "Can I wait inside? I'm boilin' up out here."

He hesitates before he nods. "Office in back. Ain't the cleanest, but it's dark an' cool."

"Fine by me," Beth answers quickly, more than ready to get off of her aching, swollen feet.

Daryl trails behind her, fingers reaching out to cup her elbow any time they come across a stray piece of equipment on the floor or an area scattered with nuts and bolts. When they survive the work area and reach the office, Beth sits straight in the chair behind the desk, kicking her Louboutin's off like they're common store shoes.

Usually, she would be horrified at her own behaviour because those heels were damn expensive and her love for shoes is beyond sanity, but she's at zero tolerance for bullshit right now and the pain her feet are in is the biggest bullshit she's had to deal with today. Sighing, she leans back and tips her neck back, only realising Daryl's remaining presence when they connect eyes.

"What? You judgin' me 'fore kickin' off my shoes in your place?"

He shakes his head, eyes sparkling with mirth but mouth set and serious, thick arms crossed over his chest. His muscles bulge because of it and she has such a vivid flash of his straining bicep and jerking hand wrapped around his cock that a hot flush descends straight from the very crown of her head all the way down to her aching toes. Jesus, she needs to get out of here.

"Nah," Daryl finally says, straightening up now and shaking out his arms. "Would offer you summat to keep you occupied, but you look like you're all set." He pointedly jerks his chin to her face and she swipes hastily at her mouth, brushing away powder from her doughnuts with burning cheeks.

"Ha ha, you're so funny," she mutters dryly, swiping at her dress which is also sprinkled with powder. "You know, I don't remember you bein' this much of a dick whenever we were on cam."

"Tha's 'cause you'se too busy lookin' at my dick."

Beth's not even sure who in the world has the gift to make a cam girl blush but this man is the first and only person tallying up on her list. "Will you please just go an' work so you can get 'round to my car soon as you possibly can?"

"You're damn stressy in real life," he answers, turning to leave.

She huffs and decides to let it go, knowing he'll be here all day listening to her if she even attempts to get into the list of reasons why she's stressing. Having a stinking hangover is sitting pretty at number one and right now the only cure is a hot shower, her most fluffy pyjamas and a cuddle with Jasmine watching Disney movies and maybe some take out.

Daryl Dixon can just piss off for five seconds and stop expecting her to flirt back with him when her brain isn't firing at its full capacity. Frankly, she hasn't got the mental stability right now to deal with how goddamn sexy he looks in a dirty wife beater full of holes and a jumpsuit tied around his waist.

She's not even going to think about the grease stains.

He's always so damn clean when they go on camera together, right down to his fingernails. Maybe he showers before every session. Either way, he takes her advice though it's with a sarcastic snort that trails out behind him. So, Beth's left to her own devices. Her phone isn't getting much signal in the office, so that's out and there's really nothing else to do.

The office chair she's sat in is unrealistically big though, like those chairs that supervillains use in the movies to turn dramatically and say, "I've been expecting you."

It's big enough to swaddle her whole body and cradle her if she were to pull her legs up. So that's exactly what she does but then she's left with the sudden realisation that she's fucking freezing. That horrible drunk cold where a person's bones feel like glass because they stood outside all goddamn night with that one friend that just has to smoke.

Truthfully, she feels damn awful so maybe a sleep will do her some good, not to mention the fact that she shouldn't be driving when she still feels a little drunk from the night before, wired on coffee and sugar and now to top it all off, the adrenaline rush of meeting Daryl. Yeah, a sleep is what she needs.

Then when she wakes up, the car will be done, she'll pay, she'll leave and she'll be one step closer to getting home to those pyjamas, a hot shower and Jasmine.

Sleep is a great idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys, part two is here! I'm uploading this from work like a rebel because it's boring as hell here. I just wanted to address an issue a reviewer had that I can't reply to as they're a guest. I haven't '** **romanticised** ' **being a cam girl. I was going to be 'realistic' but then I thought it's just a two shot, if it was a full novel like how I plan ase and tiwdfy to be, then I would put more thought into being realistic but I'm not so enjoy your smut!**

Sleeping was the worst fucking idea in the world.

First off, she wakes up with a bone-dry mouth and sticky eyelids that suggest her eyeliner has run all down her face. Secondly, her dress must have ridden up in her sleep because the first realisation she has is that the material is bunched around her waist. Thirdly, Daryl fucking Dixon is looking at her from the doorway with his arms crossed and wearing a smirk.

"You look like shit," he says the minute she blinks open both eyes and convinces them to stay open.

"Gee, thanks," she grates out through her dry throat, sitting up in the chair that she's practically slid out of. "You really know how to charm a lady."

"Look, your car's done but I don't think you should be drivin'. You even wait for the alcohol to leave your system 'fore you got in the car?"

Beth rolls her eyes. "Will you get off my back? I just wanna get home."

He stares at her for a little while longer, chewing on his lower lip before he says, "lemme drive ya."

"What?" She asks distractedly, trying to wake up some more. "What're you talkin' 'bout? I live nearly eighty miles out from here. How'd you even plan to get home?"

Daryl shrugs. "I'll work summat out."

She scoffs and straightens out her dress, her feet sinking down to the carpeted floor. "I 'preciate it, I do, but I gotta be gettin' home an' I ain't got time to convince you there's no need, so let's just talk prices so I can get outta here."

He stares at her a little longer before he glances at the clock on the wall. "When was your last drink?"

Beth sighs and looks up from where she was reaching for her heels. "What?"

"How long?"

She groans and rolls her neck on her shoulders, looking up at the clock too. "Like one am?"

Daryl nods. "S'twelve oh nine, you got fifty-one minutes 'fore I let you walk outta here."

Beth stares at him in utter bewilderment. "Daryl, this is ridiculous. Are you just tryin' to keep me here?"

He snorts. "Like yaself much?"

A flush fills her cheeks as she sits back in her chair but she frowns and studies his face which gets steadily redder.

Busted.

A little smirk decorates her mouth as she leans all the way back in the chair. "You are tryin'a keep me here. What is it? You wanna talk cam? You want some live action?"

"Jesus girl," he growls, glancing into the main parts of the garage and shutting the office door. "Keep your voice down."

Her heart thrums lightly and she finds it ridicously easy to slide into that professional attitude and slightly part her thighs. "S'actually been a while since we had any fun, huh? Like, two days, right?"

Daryl swallows lightly, his hand that's reached back to hold the door knob clenching tight. Beth bites down on her lip as she glances up from his white knuckles to his strained jaw. "This ain't nothin' like that, jus' don't wanna be feelin' like shit in a couple hours when you're on the local news for wrappin' your damn self 'round a tree like a fuckin' pretzel."

She cocks her eyebrow at him and lifts her leg until her toes curl around the edge of the office table, parting her thighs just enough to flash him her thong. Her heart beats in her throat when he notices and falls a little against the door.

With a fake pout, Beth raises a finger to twirl her hair around it. "I don't think that's why you wanna keep me here… Daryl," she whispers under her breath.

"Dammit Beth," he groans, turning the lock on the door.

"What?" She laughs, a little breathy. "This was your fantasy, right?"

"Not like I ever thought it was gonna happen, girl, Jesus."

"What? An' now you don't want it? You got me right here, in the flesh an' you don't wanna taste me?"

There's a trembling silence between them filled in with all the conversations they've had on camera about Daryl's biggest fantasy, the one he loves to beat off to nearly every night until he cums all over his stomach for her. The silence stretches and stretches until it combusts and at the exact same moment, they shoot out of their positions.

Beth pounces out of her seat, reaching with both hands to the desk in front of her and pulling her knees up behind her until she's on all fours at the exact same moment that Daryl practically falls from the door, striding across the room to her in three huge steps. Simultaneously she reaches up as he reaches down, capturing her offered mouth.

He tastes like coffee and something completely him, his taste filling her whole mouth as his hot hands fall to her waist and lift her off the desk. Beth's legs swing up and tighten on his hips, all his hot flesh burning her thighs and the heels of her feet when they dig into his lower back.

Back down he throws her, her ass landing hard on the edge of the desk and cutting into the backs of her thighs. He growls straight into her mouth, hands rough on her bare legs and raising goose bumps all over her skin. God, this is nuts, but this guy is so goddamn hot and she's been looking at his dick for three years wishing she could ride it.

There's no way in hell she's calling quits now when she's so close to something she's dreamt about, woke up hot and sweaty and aching for. She wants to fuck Daryl Dixon and she'll be damned if she doesn't make this one opportunity worth it. Her hands fall straight to his jumpsuit, tugging desperately on his tied sleeves and trying to grind against him at the same time.

It's unbelievably hot in here and everywhere Daryl touches just makes it worse, trails of fire like nothing she's ever experienced before riding her nerves and her sensitive skin until her eyes roll into the back of her head. Is it normal to be so turned on by one person? To be so excited and hot for one guy's hands?

Insanity it may be but she's not trading it. No, she wants more, so much more and she nearly screams through her teeth with the frustrated need she has pounding through her clit. Daryl groans when she finally works enough room to shove her hand into his underwear and squeeze his rock-hard cock.

"Shit," he moans against her throat, his breath hot and sexy on her hyper sensitive skin. "Can't believe this is happenin'."

Neither can she and honestly it all feels like a very vivid hallucination with colours too bright and smells too sharp, their harsh panting loud and the beat of her heart deafening in her ears. Daryl's hands on her are pure sin and when his fingers tug aside her panties to slide through her soaked slit she has to muffle a tortured moan against his shoulder.

"God, this all for me?" He whispers brokenly into her hair, his free hand cupping the back of her head and cradling her to his chest.

Beth nods against him, struggling to breathe evenly or keep her legs from shaking when he rubs her clit in soft, light circles like he's watched her do to herself for three years. She whimpers softly and curls her nails into his shoulders viciously. "Stop makin' me wait," she hisses.

He chuckles softly and slides his fingers down to tease her fluttering entrance. "You want it here?"

"Yes," she keens through her teeth, canting her hips and rubbing against him like a common whore.

"Fuck," he breathes as he yanks himself away and she only has a second to get excited at his wild eyes before he slams her against the desk.

Beth's breath bowls out of her and she doesn't even have time to recover before he's pulled his dick out and presses it between her thighs. Shaking uncontrollably, she has to curl her fingers around the edge of the desk to stop the intense need she has to pull at her own hair and scream with impatience.

"Jesus, look at you," he whispers huskily.

She moans, her head rolling around on her neck and her chest straining. "Please, Daryl."

He grunts, both hungry hands reaching up to yank the cups of her dress down and roughly grab her breasts, twisting her nipples hard enough to make her throw back her head and moan throatily. It barely tapers off before he forces another grunting one out because he shoves his cock straight into her, managing to get nearly halfway before her unprepared pussy clamps down on him.

"Fuck yeah," he whispers, jerking his hips hard and forcing his way inside.

Beth can't describe the way he makes her feel, her stomach intense with butterflies and her very blood singing with pleasure, her whole body remade into a network of touch. Sound dies away, Daryl's panting grunts and her own whimpers like dying back ground noise while she feels his driving cock stroke along her inner walls and caresses a spot deep inside.

Even muted she doesn't sound very attractive, nothing at all like her practised ooh's and ahh's that she gives out like candy to her clients. This is real, this is unfiltered and this is amazing. Gripping his forearms and grinding her hips to his thrusts is amazing and all she do is chant slurred praises and his mutilated name.

An orgasm is quick and speedy, wiping her out until she's completely numb and silent, her mouth open in a scream that can't work past her throat and her eyes locked with the first guy in her lifetime that has ever made her have a real orgasm. It's intense, completely overwhelming and Daryl is as stuck in it as she is.

Not even minutes later his jaw is straining so hard she's worried one of his teeth with crack and when he wrenches out of it her its violent and hot, his cum scorching when it sprays across not only her pussy and her stomach but also her exposed hips and trembling inner thighs.

She's not sure she can ever speak again or move, let alone drive all the way home and to be honest, she's not even really thinking about moving ever again because she sinks like she no longer has bones into the desk and lets her eyes slide shut, sweat gliding cool and slick down her temples and hot cheekbones.

Daryl collapses down onto her, his weight heavy and hot and somehow perfect, not overbearing or crushing but full of comfort and she doesn't even bother to relax her legs or try to cover up. Instead, she stays motionless with them splayed open, parted to accommodate his thick body.

There's really no plans at all in her brain until the door hammers hard and her heart jump starts her brain into whirling action. Daryl is the first one to jump up and try to organise himself and Beth does the same a little sluggishly a couple of seconds later, adjusting her dress and settling her thong back into place.

Smoothing out her hair, she turns to face the desk and picks up a random pen, saying a little shakily but still rather convincing she thinks when Daryl opens the door, "so I just sign here an' we're all done?"

Daryl cleans his throat and says, "yeah, all set. S'up?"

There's a long drawn out sniff and Beth's heart races at Merle's little cough that could have been a laugh. "Been in here a while, got shit to do."

"I'll be outta here in a sec, she's been real fuckin' difficult 'bout the price."

Beth rolls her eyes and continues to pretend that she's signing paperwork while Merle hums under his breath. "Right. Well, come the fuck on then, I ain't stayin' any longer than five 'cause you're slow, boy."

The door shuts and she straightens up to look at Daryl who's back is still turned to her and is covered in scratches. She gasps and he looks at her with a tiny, tiny smile. "You think we're done?"

Her pussy flutters at the same time as her heart but she's pretty sure it stops when he nods his chin to the desk. "Get your dress off. We got five minutes."


End file.
